


Slow and Steady

by Mimiminaj



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Blind Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, The Pack, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 05:58:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2417519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimiminaj/pseuds/Mimiminaj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m not moving an inch until one of you dumb asses fixes this.”</p><p>Stiles heard Scott shuffle his feet, a clear sign of discomfort. “Stiles, I don’t think now’s the time to be a drama queen. We really should -”</p><p>“A drama queen? I’m sorry, but did you just become blind? No, I don’t think you did. So if I want to be dramatic, damn right am I going to be dramatic.”</p><p>“Stiles,” Derek huffed out. Stiles couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Of course Derek sounded annoyed. “I can literally hear the witches laughing. I’m pretty sure one just said ‘let’s take his coordination too.’ I don’t think getting the hell out of here is a choice.”</p><p>Stiles sighed. “They clearly don’t know me very well. Whatever. Somebody just turn me in the right direction and I’ll run.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow and Steady

“I’m not moving an inch until one of you dumb asses fixes this.”

Stiles heard Scott shuffle his feet, a clear sign of discomfort. “Stiles, I don’t think now’s the time to be a drama queen. We really should -”

“A drama queen? I’m sorry, but did _you_ just become blind? No, I don’t think you did. So if I want to be dramatic, damn right am I going to be dramatic.”

“Stiles,” Derek huffed out. Stiles couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Of course Derek sounded annoyed. “I can literally hear the witches laughing. I’m pretty sure one just said ‘let’s take his coordination too.’ I don’t think getting the hell out of here is a choice.”

Stiles sighed. “They clearly don’t know me very well. Whatever. Somebody just turn me in the right direction and I’ll run.”

Isaac snickered, and Stiles immediately turned his eyes to where he thought the noise was coming from and glared. Which, of course, only made Allison laugh.

“Careful with that glare, Stiles. I don’t think that shrub did anything to you.”

“Oh my god you all suck so bad. Will somebody just point me in the right direction please!”

“I am pointing,” came Isaac’s _evil_ laugh.

“Never mind,” Stiles sighed, before – “HEY WITCHES, THE CURLY HEADED ONE WANTS TO BECOME A GIRL.”

In a flurry of movement and werewolf roars, Stiles found himself smashed against a very hard and solid surface, with two tree trunks wrapped around him.

Tree trunks? No, that can’t be. Well, witches, so maybe? No, he knows that smell. Why for the love of everything that is good does he have to know that smell? Once he could feel the up-down bob of somebody running, and the wind in his face, his assumptions became correct.

“Derek, please do not tell me you’re carrying me threw the woods right now.”

“Gladly.”

“I mean, why couldn’t Scott just have picked me up. We all know I would’ve chosen Scott.”

“Stiles… shut up. Do you think I want to be carrying you? I would rather find a piece of tape, some super glue, put it all over your mouth, find a sign that says ‘here you go witches, take this one with you when you leave’ and break your knee. Then I would have let Scott rescue you. I don’t think you want to hear the entire list before it gets down to me.”

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh. “Only you Derek, only you. Besides, I know you’re lying. You’re carrying me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, because all snark and bullshit aside, you and Scott would be dead or captured by the witches had he tried. I’m the Alpha, Stiles, I’m the strongest.”

“Oh yes, my favorite line. _I’m the Alpha now_ ,” he said in his deepest voice.

He was fine when Derek didn’t reply. The dude was not only running for his life but also carrying an additional 150 pounds; if he didn’t want to talk, he didn’t have to. Besides, this whole situation was embarrassing enough as it was.

The only problem was, he had no idea where to put his head. From what he could tell and feel, Derek was carrying him bridal style. That being said, Stiles face was pretty much rested right near Derek’s shoulder and neck. Not only that, but his neck hurt from trying to keep his face away from Derek’s body.

But Stiles refused to rest his head against Derek.

Why, well, Stiles had a three point list already mapped out.

One, he’s not a girl. He’s not going to let Derek cradle him.

Two, it’s Derek. Such level of closeness to the man would have to start the apocalypse or something.

And three, Stiles didn’t exactly know what it would feel like having his face mashed up against Derek’s stubbly neck. Would it even be comfortable?

Okay, maybe he’s thought about the space right next to Derek’s neck a handful of times, but just that. A handful of times, and he’s probably not thought of it for months. When it wasn’t involving Lydia, Stiles was a realist.

Oh, there’s a fourth point too, but it’s slightly repetitive. The point is ‘it’s Derek’ again, but Stiles felt like that point bared repeating. After all, he wouldn’t be that surprised if when he did drop his head that Derek would just drop him and be on his merry and safe way.

All of this, Stiles realized, is pretty unimportant compared to his eyesight. In the rush of things, he hadn’t quite gotten a grip on the fact that _he can’t see_. He wondered briefly what the trees look like from this angle, rushing past in what is likely a blur of green and brown. He then wondered what Derek’s face looks like from this angle too, but only for a few seconds before he stamped that thought down.

Wow, he’s blind. Will they find a cure? Will he actually be blind for the rest of his life? His use in the pack will go from arguably helpful to absolutely pointless within seconds.

This all starts to make his head hurt, and with that kink that is quickly forming in his neck, Stiles can’t help but let his face fall right into the crook of Derek’s shoulder. He’s mashed up against the scruff on Derek’s neck and jaw, and he finds that it’s a pleasant tickle.

He really can’t help it when he rubs his face a little, sighing against Derek’s skin. He doesn’t miss the way the werewolf tenses, nor does he care. He’s going to block out the world for the next few minutes, and pretend he’s not in the situation he’s actually in. If he wants to pretend like when he opens his eyes again he’ll be able to see, than fine. Somebody sue him.

“This is so embarrassing,” he can’t help but mumble.

“Shut up, Stiles.”

Well, a little consistency in his life was always a welcome thing.

__

“You can’t be serious. I’ll be totally fine by myself.”

“No Stiles.” He hated that tone. The one that said you’re and idiot don’t even try to fight this. Whenever Lydia took it, and whenever it was directed at Stiles, he knew he wasn’t going to have a good day.

“No, don’t ‘no Stiles’ me. If you think I’m going to let any of you stay here and play watchdog over me I’m literally going to scream. And my screams aren’t even cool or powerful like Lydia’s. They’ll just be annoying. You’ve been warned.”

He heard Scott huff. He was really getting annoyed with that sound. He probably would be getting annoyed at the sight of it too, but that probably wasn’t going to be a problem anytime soon.

He gripped the arm of his couch tightly. He had been steadily working on a map of the room, of where he had thought people were placed, for the past fifteen minutes. He was fairly sure that Lydia and Jackson were standing in the corner, probably facing him. He could feel Scott next to him, and knew that by default Allison would be on his other side. He could tell that Erika was somewhere behind him and the couch, and that Isaac and Boyd were off on the lookout.

The only person who he wasn’t sure of was Derek. The man hadn’t spoken for the last fifteen minutes.

“You can’t get out of this, Stiles,” Erika purred. He jumped as her finger touched his ear. He heard Scott growl, and Erika snicker. “See, you just jumped at a finger. A finger, Stiles. You are defenseless. You need us here in case the witches come back.”

“Last time I checked, I’m pretty sure that in a werewolf to witch fight, the witch usually wins. And besides, if a witch wanted to get me, I don’t think me being able to see would make much of a difference.”

“You’re right, it wouldn’t.” Oh, so Derek was probably somewhere by the fireplace. Can you feel a person stare? Stiles definitely felt like he could feel Derek’s eyes on him. “Even if you could see, Stiles, we would still station somebody with you. The witches have zeroed you out. It’d be a death wish to let you go unsupervised.”

Stiles kept his mouth shut. He couldn’t fight that logic. He recoiled, only slightly, when Derek started speaking in his Alpha voice.

“Until this is figured out, we’re going to do this in shifts. Scott and Allison, you guys can take the next three hours. After that, Jackson, Lydia and Erika are going to take the next three. You’ll be alternating from then on. Everybody that is not on babysitting duty will be around the clock searching for a way to stop these witches.”

“And a way to get my eyesight back! Also, baby-sitting duty? Fuck you Derek. I’d like to see you deal with being blind.”

“Alright, I agree with your plan,” Scott began. “Allison and I will take the first-”

“Excuse me, but If you wouldn’t mind me interrupting - ”

Stiles flailed. “Holy shit, how long has he been here? Um, my house, my rules. I don’t want creeper Peter here when I am visually impaired. Derek, I command you to Alpha Voice him out of here. Now, quickly. Go ahead.”

A few beats of silence had Stiles furrowing his eyebrow. Had Derek left?

“Continue, Peter.” Nope, nope he did not. Stiles scowled.

“Thank you.” And stiles couldn’t help but make a gagging face. Peter’s voice was so sugary and _fake_. “Unlike all of you, I’ve combed my way through most of the bestiary my family has collected.”

“Hey, I’m almost half way done. Kind of blind now though if you haven’t noticed. So..shove it.”

“Stiles.” Derek muttered.

“Stiles,” Stiles mocked back.

“Are we sure this kid is worth saving?”

Stiles couldn’t count how many growls he heard from that. His heart warmed a little, and he relaxed slightly into the couch. Stiles: 1 Peter: 0.

“If you don’t give us something useful, Peter, _I will actually_ Alpha Voice you out of here. I’ve been practicing.”

“Oh my God Stiles is blind and Derek is cracking jokes, the world is literally going to end.”

“Could we please just all _shut up_ and get this over with. We should be hunting not arguing.”

“How poetic of you, Jackson,” Stiles supplied. “But unfortunately I agree. Peter, bedazzle us with your over the top, cryptic, dramatics.”

“Cryptic? How’s this for you, Stiles. Derek needs to be the one who watches over you at night, and it needs to be at his loft. Alone.”

Stiles turned his face to where Peter’s voice was coming from. He raised his eyebrows and gave him what he hoped to be his best ‘bitch please’ look.

“Unlikely.”

“It’s your life. But I’ve read the extensive witch chapter my ancestors compiled and one fact was repeated. Witches have a strange fear of alpha werewolves. And, by extension, their dens. They’ll attack when the alpha is amongst beta’s, because their pitiful senses can’t distinguish wolves in the crowd. But, when Derek is the only werewolf around, they know.”

A few moments of tense silence followed.

“I’m picturing you with an extremely ugly grin on your face. Am I right? Somebody tell me he actually has a nasty ass grin on his face.”

“You’re right, Stiles, he does. That doesn’t make his statement any less true.”

“Fine. Whatever. Bros night with Derek. I’m down. Maybe he’ll play a video game with me, or he can paint my nails. Let’s face it; we’ll probably just watch a movie. That sound good dude?” Stiles asked the general room.

“Great,” came the unmistakably sarcastic and ‘I hate my life’ tone Derek saved for only him. “I have a lot of great foreign movies. It’s okay though, the subtitles are on the screen.”

Stiles sighed. His life right now.

Transport didn’t go so well. Scott, Allison, Derek and Stiles were halfway to Derek’s Camaro when the witches reappeared. Stiles, having no idea what to do, simply froze.  

He felt something jostle his back, a hand come around his arm only to quickly disappear, and a lot of yelling.

All too soon, he could feel a presence right in front of him. A bad one.

“You’re eyes look so beautiful like that, dear. All glazed over and slack.

Stiles cringed, attempted to turn around and run, before feeling a hot sensation hit his head and blacked out.

The world was black. Was he dreaming? No, the massive headache he felt panging behind his ears told him otherwise. He blinked. There was definitely blink-age going on. So why was everything so dark?

It all came rushing back to him. The witches. The heat. The _cackle_. His heart started pounding, and he didn’t know what to do. He was on something soft. Yes, but was that good _. Was everybody okay?! Did the witches capture him_?!

“Stiles, please, you’re alright. You’re at my loft.”

In all of his months knowing Derek Hale, Stiles never thought his voice would ever bring him safety. Except, in this moment, it’s the only thing he was feeling. He was with Derek. He was okay. He was _alive_.

“What happened? Is everyone okay? Where are they?” He rattled off in succession, attempting to stand and get up before becoming to dizzy and falling back down.

He felt a hand on his arm and a pillow nudging his head. He lifted his head and allowed it to be tucked under.

“Everybody’s fine. You need to stay on the couch. Everybody else is out there tracking down the witches. Boyd and Erika were able to kill one, and two of them were seriously hurt. Everything is okay.”

Stiles tried to calm his breathing. He cracked a paper-thin grin and mumbled “best to catch them when they are wounded, huh?”

“Exactly.”

“Okay…Okay. We’re okay. It’s all good. Peachy, even.”

When Derek didn’t respond, Stiles sighed.

“Well, I guess it’s time for bros night,” he said in a fake enthusiastic snicker. “Just one blind human and one grumpy alpha werewolf. This couldn’t get _better_.”

Stiles waited. When there was still reply, he frowned. “Hey, if you just left the room, you need to tell me! No vision, remem – HOLY SHIT.”

 

He jumped as a hand grabbed him from behind him.

“Jesus Derek you fucking asshole! You have to make sound! Got it?”

“Got it!” A sarcastic yell came from another room. Stiles swore, hating Derek more and more by the second. _Like that_ , he thought. _You can’t just leave the room while I’m talking. I’ll look like an idiot!_

He played with a strand of his sweatshirt while he waited. He had no idea what Derek was doing. He had no idea what he was supposed to be doing. What did blind people do for fun?

He couldn’t help himself. An overwhelming feeling of sadness gripped him as he thought of all the people who had to live with this daily. It hadn’t even been a day and yet Stiles felt like he was going out of his mind.

Seriously, though. What the hell was he supposed to do?

He heard a clanking and realized Derek must be in the kitchen. Maybe he was making food? Stiles never had dinner (the witches had attacked right before it), so he was wondering if Derek would be nice enough to make him something too. He then thought about dead bunnies and quickly rethought his wish.

He heard a creak behind him and he froze. Another pang from the kitchen told him Derek was still in there. Now, it wasn’t rare for the loft to make creaky sounds every once and awhile. It was one of the reasons Derek rented the place. The creakiness had reminded him of his past house. The fact that Derek was still chasing that memory, trying to find comfort in his old life, made another overwhelming feeling of sadness wash over him.

Until he heard a second creak. His whole body tensed.

“Derek,” he croaked. He literally felt like he couldn’t move. He hated this feeling. Give him a bat and he could take on the world. Yet now, unable to see, to even get up and run, Stiles felt defenseless. He hated feeling defenseless.

Derek’s voice was a lot closer when he next spoke. And, while maybe Stiles was imagining it, also sounded a lot more nervous. “Stiles, what’s wrong?”

“The loft is creaky.”

“I know?”

Stiles waited.

“Oh,” Derek breathed.

He waited some more.

“Okay. I’ll…come out here when I’m done. Did you want anything to eat?”

“Obviously. I never had dinner. Wait, what time is it?”

“3:30. In the morning.”

“What? I was out for that long? What are you still doing up?”

“Somebody had to make sure you woke up, dumbass. Deaton said if you hadn’t by five I was supposed to bring you in again.”

“Oh…well thanks, I guess.”

“What do you want to eat?”

“Nevermind. I’ll…pass.”

Stiles sat back into the couch and fought the urge to bring his knees up and hug them. He was out for 7 hours? Derek had stayed up for him? He felt like his level of usefulness was continuously dropping.

It wasn’t even ten minutes later when he heard Derek call “I’m coming into the room!” Stiles couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic about it or if he literally was afraid Stiles would freak out if he didn’t call.

Stiles guessed it was probably the latter.

“I made Mac and Cheese. Hold out your hands if you want a bowl.”

“You made Mac and Cheese? For me?”

“No, idiot, for me. I just made extra…in case somebody wanted it.”

Stiles smiled. “You do understand Mac and Cheese is for like middle school kids, right? Even _I’m_ too old for this.” Still, he took the bowl happily, feeling around for the spoon. He tucked it close to his chest, making sure that if (read: when) he dropped his food; it would hopefully not land all over his shirt.

He chewed quietly and waited. He heard Derek settle down into the armchair that was next to the couch. A clink told him he had set whatever he was drinking down on the side table (which, yes, Stiles and Lydia had forced into the loft). He waited some more.

“Can you please just carry a conversation? I can’t interpret your eyebrows right now so I’m going to need you to vocalize.”

“I’m reading.”

Stiles scoffed. “So you eat Mac and Cheese _and_ you read. Why have I not seen any of this? Oh my god,” he turned serious. “I have been kidnapped. The witches fabricated this.”

“Stiles, shut up.”

“I’m so confused. You never read, yet you still have that ‘I hate Stiles’ vibe. The witches clearly should have studied you more.”

Derek huffed. “I don’t hate you. And just because I don’t do things in front of my pack doesn’t mean I don’t still do them. Like this, for example. I could live without you criticizing this.”

Stiles fell silent. He bit his lip.

“Don’t bite your lip. There was something about blood in the bestiary.”

“Were you watching me?” Stiles teased. He wanted to get as far away from the topic of making fun of Derek as possible. Because, well, Stiles knew what it was like to be ridiculed. God, he would never want to do that.

“Of course I was, we were having a _conversation_. I’m going to read now.”

A few minutes passed while Stiles ate his, admittedly, amazing Mac and Cheese. He would definitely ask Derek to make it again. Then again, seeing as Derek had never made him anything before, he didn’t know if all of this was to be filed under _special circumstances._

“You know,” he mumbled when he couldn’t stand the silence anymore. Derek was a _very_ quiet reader. “In the future, if you wanted to like…read, or cook, or whatever else you do… I won’t make fun of you.”

“I highly doubt that Stiles.”

“Well I mean I’ll do the appropriate amount of _light-hearted_ teasing. But that’s it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You have Mac and Cheese on your shirt.”

“What, fuck! Is it bad? Where?”

“It looks like you had a hole in the bottom of your mouth. _Do you_ have a whole in the bottom of your mouth? I guess it could be a side effect of the blindness.”

Stiles scoffed. “I can’t handle your snark right now. Just give me a napkin.”

Derek also scoffed. “I don’t think a napkin will help. But okay.”

Stiles traced his steps into the kitchen and then back out. Well, he thought to himself, at least he has the decency to make noise.

A pile of napkins falls on the top of his head.

Stiles makes a mental note to subtract all the points he had just given Derek for making noise and deducting a boat load for being the biggest ass in the world.

“Oh, yes, thank you. Pick on the blind kid.”

“Now now, Stiles, don’t go making excuses for yourself.”

“You-I-uh- _Whatever_.”

He busied himself by taping his head until he found a napkin. Grabbing it, he quickly rubbed the upper area of his t-shirt. He ignored Derek’s blatant snickers.

“I hate you right now,” Stiles mumbled. “Is it better at all? Did I just dribble the sauce, I don’t feel any noodles?”

Stiles snapped his head up when he heard one of the weirdest sounds in the world. Derek was laughing. He was laughing a true, bottom of the belly laugh. Stiles instantly wished he could see what Derek looked like, probably all blissed out with a real smile on his face, before instantly stomping down on that emotion.

“I didn’t spill anything, did I?”

“Nope,” Derek managed.

“I hate you so hard core right now.”

“I took a video of that with my phone.”

Stiles cheeks burned. “Mark my words Derek Hale. Pay back is a bitch.”

“Hmm I’m sure. Now shut up. I’m going back to reading. Feel free to fall asleep again whenever you want.”

“Why?”

“You’re not the one on babysitting duty. I am. Shit gets tiring.”

Stiles scoffed a bit more before falling silent. He had absolutely no idea what to do. He couldn’t even go on the computer. He couldn’t read (though, did he ever?).

“Can you turn on the TV?”

“What’s the point? You can’t see it.”

Stiles towed with his hands a bit. He may be growing tired of Derek’s snarky comments.

He felt a control drop lightly onto his lap. When Derek talked again, Stiles could tell he was standing over him.

“Hey, I’m sorry. You know you’re going to be fine. The pack will fix this. Here, there’s the power button.”

He jumped slightly when Derek’s hands found his and he felt his finger being pushed against a button. He breathed in, and he could smell Derek’s musky and wooden scent perfectly. His heart started to speed up.

Derek’s hands stilled.

“You okay?”

“Jokes aside, this fucking sucks. This is probably what’s going to finally do me in.”

Derek sighed. Stiles felt the couch dip next to him and felt Derek’s arm brush past his.

“What are you doing?” Stiles murmured, turning on the TV and hearing a commercial start. It was for dish soap.

“Stop. You’re fine. The pack _will_ fix this. And the witches are not going to come with an Alpha protecting you.”

Stiles couldn’t help but to chuckle.

“My hero.”

“I know. You’re damn near lucky too. What do you want to watch?” Derek asked as he felt hands close around his and slide the remote away from him.

“Wow, never realized your hands are so big.”

“Was that a weird statement? It totally didn’t sound weird in my head.”

“Umm…thanks?”

Stiles smiled before settling further down into the couch. He was able to curl up with his head on the armrest, and his feet brushing Derek’s thigh. He didn’t need to actually see the screen. Obviously.

“I don’t care. I’m just going to tune it out. Back to sleep for me. Why am I so tired?”

“Deaton said your body is fighting the spell. It’s going to take some ‘umph’ out of you. So, in other words, it’s making you bearable.”

Stiles full out laughed that time. He settled further into the armrest and smiled. Okay. He swore up and down it wasn’t Derek that made him feel so safe, it was the fact that he was an _alpha_.

Yeah, simple basic human need to survive. Attach yourself to the strongest creature around.

Check.

**Author's Note:**

> Had this on the back burner for a few years now. Thought it was good enough to at least post what i had :) Comment if you liked it


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